The Dragoneer Trilogy

by Vickie Knestaut

  Kaylar sat back in her chair and clasped her hands over her open mouth. She blinked. Then she blinked again. “You’re serious,” she whispered.

  Trysten nodded. “You and anyone else you know who might be interested. Anyone capable of flying and shooting a bow will become a hordesman.”

  Kaylar slapped the table with both open palms. Everyone in the tavern shot a glance in their direction as Kaylar let out a whoop, and then pushed herself roughly away and up from the table. She spun around. “You hear that Father?” she called to the man behind the bar. “I’m going to be a hordesman!”

  Kaylar’s father blinked at Trysten, and at that moment, he reminded her of a turtle with his bald head and slight dewlap.

  “A hordesman?” one of the regulars asked as he turned around in his chair. “You? Bah! You ain’t fit to be a hordesman! No woman is. It’s a naturally known fact that women can’t handle dragons in the heat of battle.”

  Trysten stood.

  “Oh,” the man said, then took a pull from his mug. “Yes, the fallen Dragoneer’s daughter. It’s a shame that Mardoc didn’t have a proper son to pass the title to. It’s not up to me to say why,” the man said as he turned around and winked at his table mates. One of them snickered. The other found something in his mug that required his immediate attention.

  “But,” the man continued, “it wouldn’t surprise me the least bit if it is actually that Paege who is the man behind the title. I mean, how else can you account for those Western demons all trounced up in Spattle’s and Avery’s cottages? I mean, I might believe a woman, a rare woman might have enough in her to ride a dragon into battle, because the wilds know my wife could give a stare that would wither the Western hordesmen if you know what I mean…”

  The man trailed off as Kaylar stepped up to him, her face red and her fists clenched.

  Trysten stepped around the table herself and raised her hands, palms out, ready to try and placate the situation. Surely if the Prince got word that her first female recruit had been taken out in a bar fight, it wouldn’t help convince him that she was running a weyr properly.

  “That is the Dragoneer of Aerona weyr you are speaking of,” Kaylar said, her voice calm and even, hardly loud enough for Trysten to hear from only a few feet away.

  The patron’s eyes scaled Kaylar’s height, pausing ever-so-briefly at her bust, before reaching her eyes.

  “Why…” the patron said, then pulled another draft from his mug before snapping it back down onto the table with more force than necessary. He nodded to himself. “I’m more certain than ever that young Paege is the true Dragoneer. Why that Mardoc made a deal with him to keep the title in the family. He promises his daughter to Paege, and in return, Paege is the Dragoneer in secret until he can have a son to pass the title on to, and Mardoc gets to see his grandson take the title. Anyone with half a brain—”

  “I will give you just one chance to take that back,” Kaylar said, her tone smooth and even. She flexed both her fists.

  “Sessus,” the patron called back to the barkeeper. “Get your girl under control here.”

  Sessus looked from Kaylar to Trysten, and then back to the patron. “Now, let’s all just calm down here.”

  “Kaylar,” Trysten said and reached out to lay a hand upon the larger woman’s arm as if she were a dragon in need of pulling back.

  “You’re running out of time, Moore. Do you need me to tell you what the smart thing to do would be?” Kaylar asked.

  Moore snorted, then looked back to the bartender. “I’m warning you, Sessus, if you can’t get your girl under control, then I’ll put her over my own knee.”

  Moore stood quickly and reached for Kaylar. As Trysten stepped forward, teeth gritted, confident that this was about to go to anyone’s definition of ‘too far,’ Kaylar snatched Moore’s wrist in a flash. The man glanced at his wrist in surprise as Kaylar yanked it up, then over and down between the two of them. Moore spun around while Kaylar pinned his arm up behind his back.

  “Hey!” Moore hollered in surprise, but before he could regain his balance, Kaylar pressed the palm of her other hand against the back of his head, then shoved as her toe tipped him behind his knee. He collapsed forward until the slam of his head against the table reminded all in the tavern just how thick the man’s skull was.

  The two drinking partners each scuttled out of their chairs and several steps away from their fallen comrade.

  “Sessus!” Moore hollered. “For all the sky, man! Get your girl off me!”

  Sessus merely grinned until the grin became a beam. “Ha! You’re getting off lucky, Moore! Imagine if my girl was an actual hordesman! Why you’d be in the stockade for all that trash that left your mouth.” He leaned forward and planted his hands upon the bar. “I think you’re getting off lucky!”

  “I do not hear an apology, Moore,” Kaylar said in a sing-song voice.

  “Apology! Fish and birds, girl! It should be you—Aargh!” he hollered as Kaylar twisted his arm a little harder.

  Despite her gritted teeth, Trysten had to place a hand over her mouth to conceal a grin of delight. The Prince might not like it when he got word of this, but to the wilds with it. There was no playing safe after they had gone this far. Playing safe would have meant that Elevera had absconded if Trysten had not stepped into the bonding when she had.

  “All right! All right!” Moore hollered, red-faced, spittle flecking out from his lips. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean a word of it. I was… I’m sorry, all right?”

  “You heard him,” Sessus said. “The man’s sorry. Now get him out of here before he disturbs anyone else. And don’t you set a foot back in here, Moore! Not until you learn to be civil, to have a little respect for our Dragoneer, and for my girl in particular.” Sessus zipped a finger through the air, his excitement contagious. “Next time you cross my girl, she’ll be on a dragon!”

  Kaylar yanked back on Moore’s arm and peeled him off the table. His mouth worked as if he were trying to find something else to say, while Kaylar quick-marched him across the room and shoved him out the doorway.

  Trysten stepped up behind Kaylar to watch Moore stumble a few steps forward. He whipped himself around, rubbed his shoulder, then took off in the direction of his cottage.

  A low whistle escaped Trysten as she looked up at Kaylar. “If you can so much as hold a bow, you’re in.”

  Kaylar snorted, then looked at Trysten. “If I had known that throwing Moore out of here was all it would take, then I would have been a hordesman years ago.”

  “Joachim!” Sessus shouted at the back of the tavern. “Did you hear that? Get out here! Our girl is going to ride the dragons!”

  Without waiting for a response, Sessus rushed up to Kaylar and gave her a giant hug. Despite being only slightly larger than the tall and stocky Kaylar, he lifted her up and spun her halfway around. Kaylar let out a squeal of delight.

  Trysten grinned. The Prince be wild. She wanted his support, but the village needed this.

  A short woman came rushing out of the back of the tavern. She raced forward, arms and mouth both open wide before she too crushed Kaylar in an enthusiastic hug.

  Chapter 7

  Trysten stopped at the entrance to the weyr. For once, she had slept well with no wild dreams and was eager to begin training exercises. She held her breath as she looked inside, anxious to see how many recruits had shown up for lessons. Halfway down the aisle, near Elevera’s stall, Kaylar stood with another young woman and two young men. Kaylar held her hand out to Elevera. Trysten felt the dragon’s curiosity mixed with a tinge of suspicion. She stepped inside and started down the aisle. All of the dragons turned their heads as one to watch her. Their anticipation washed over Trysten, and she smiled.

  The new recruits followed the gaze of the dragons, and they, too, turned to watch the Dragoneer approach. Kaylar’s hand dropped to her side, her face nearly split with a grin.

  Even though she was grateful for new recruits, Trysten was
slightly disappointed to see only four. The horde had more than twenty saddles to fill. She swallowed her disappointment, squared her shoulders, and walked down the aisle. Four was better than none, and the fact that two of them were women was promising. Hopefully, they would spread the word and set an example that would lead to other candidates stepping up to fill the empty saddles.

  None of the young people were strangers. Aerona was a small village without many newcomers. The young woman, Alea, was the middle child of a large family that raised goats. The boys were brothers, Darin and Deslan, twins who did not appear alike. Their father was the village blacksmith.

  Trysten approached the small group, glancing once over her shoulder in the hope that she might find a few stragglers. Instead, the opening of the weyr yawned empty behind her, filled only with the view of the distant mountains.

  “Thank you for coming,” Trysten said. She smiled at each of the recruits. The boys nodded at her. Kaylar beamed, and Alea glanced down at the toes of her boots.

  Should she wait a few moments? Four new recruits was a sizable group. Typically recruits were trained one or two at a time as openings became available among the ranks of hordesmen. But now, with the addition of the new dragons, she needed more than twenty new riders. And Paege certainly had a valid point that many in the village were busy with other projects, most of which were being pursued precisely because Trysten had wanted them.

  No, she would be thankful for these four and move forward.

  “Well, I know each of you, and you all know me. Shall we get started? Are there any questions before we start?”

  “When do we get to ride a dragon?” Darin asked. His gaze shot up to Elevera at the end of the question.

  “Soon,” Trysten said with a nod. “You will first learn the hand signals. You aren’t always close enough to be able to speak to your fellow hordesmen, or the wind may be too loud to hear commands. So we use signals to communicate in the air. Before you get on a dragon, I want to make sure that we can communicate. It is the most important thing for the safety of the dragons and their riders.”

  Despite herself, Trysten glanced up into the brown eyes of Elevera. Their connection required no signals of any kind. From time to time, Trysten still found herself in awe of their bond.

  “All right,” she said, returning her attention to the recruits. She lifted her right arm in the air as she had seen her father do scores of times as he trained new recruits. “This is called The Sky. We use it—”

  “Sorry!” a voice called from the back of the weyr. “I’m so sorry! You haven’t started yet, have you?”

  Trysten allowed her arm to fall to her side as she turned around. A young woman rushed down the aisle. She was breathless from running. Blushing, she joined the group. It was Tannil, who was a year younger than Trysten. Her mother was one of the best weavers in the village.

  “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I promise,” Tannil said. She halted before Trysten and tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear. “I’m not too late, am I? I want to be a hordesman. I’ll be a good one. I love dragons! And I can shoot a bow. I’m good. I really am.”

  The woman’s enthusiasm made Trysten grin and seemed to ease the tension among the recruits. Tannil’s skill with a bow was above average. Though she hadn’t won any of the game competitions, she had always scored well and promised to be a top-notch archer one day. If she could spread her enthusiasm throughout the village, it certainly would help the weyr’s cause.

  “Go ahead,” Trysten said with a nod to the other recruits. “You’re just in time. We were starting to go over the hand signals.”

  Tannil let out a squeal and quick clap of her hands before she took up a position on the other side of Kaylar. The two women exchanged a glance, Kaylar looking pleasantly surprised, and Tannil nearly beside herself with glee.

  Five recruits wasn’t a bad start. It was sure to be only the beginning once word started to get around. Though it was tempting to wait a moment or two more, just in case there were more stragglers, it was probably best to keep going.

  “We were talking about the importance of the hand signal system. It is how we communicate with each other in the air, so you must learn the signals before you can ride,” Trysten continued the lesson. She glanced at Darin, who could hardly conceal a grin at the mention of taking to the air.

  “This first signal,” Trysten began as she lifted her hand toward the rafters, “is called The Sky. It is the signal that we use to let others know—”

  “Tannil!” a gruff voice called out.

  All the joy and half the blush fell from Tannil’s face as her eyes darted to the entrance of the weyr. She looked stricken and frightened as she took half a step toward Kaylar.

  Trysten turned around to find Tannil’s father stomping down the aisle. His face was red, twisted in agitation. His tight fists swung at his side, ready to knock down anything that stepped into his path.

  “Tannil, by the wilds, I want you to stop this foolishness this very instant!”

  “I want to be a hordesman!” Tannil snapped. “I’m here. I showed up. I’m a recruit now.”

  Focil stopped behind Trysten as if she were a line that could not be crossed. His hands flexed and the color blanched from his knuckles. “I told you that I’d have nothing to do with this. Get out of the weyr and go home this very minute!”

  Trysten lifted an eyebrow as she rocked back on her heels a bit. She had not expected this from anyone in the village but probably should have. She was learning that change was challenging and that being the Dragoneer required much more than just bonding with the alpha dragon.

  “I’m not leaving,” Tannil shot back. “You said under your roof, it’s your rules. Well, I’ll be staying under the weyr’s roof now. I’ll bunk with the hordesmen.”

  Focil swung his attention around to Trysten. “You can’t let her join the horde. You hear me? She can’t be sleeping in the bunkhouse with all those hordesmen.”

  “I’d rather sleep in a stable than spend another night with you!” Tannil spat.

  “Hold on,” Trysten said as she raised a hand and held it between the two.

  “I’ve spent my life working to keep a roof over your head and food in your belly, and this is how you are going to repay me?”

  “I’m going to be a hordesman! I’m going to keep the village safe. Consider that your repayment.”

  “Hold on!” Trysten said again, her voice elevated.

  “My repayment would be a daughter with a lick of sense. You can’t ride a dragon into battle. You understand that? Why do you think these saddles are empty? People get killed, Tannil. This isn’t a wild game. People die. As your father, it is my job to keep you safe, and so I forbid you from this foolishness. March your hind-end—”

  “You can’t boss me around anymore,” Tannil’s voice had become shrill as her face reddened.

  “That’s enough!” Trysten snapped. She waved her hand once between the two family members, and Elevera let out a rumble that caught the attention of all.

  “You,” Focil said as he turned his attention to Trysten. “It’s bad enough that you’re encouraging women to join the horde.” He gestured at Kaylar and Alea. “But you cannot have my daughter. I won’t allow it.”

  “It’s not your decision to make!” Tannil countered.

  “She’s not of age!” Focil shouted at Trysten. He jabbed a finger in Tannil’s direction as if the sight of her was evidence enough of his claim.

  “I will be,” Tannil shouted. “By the solstice, I will be old enough, and then you can’t stop me. I’ll join the horde anyway, so why stop me now?”

  “Because I’m your father, that’s why!”

  “Stop this!” Trysten demanded.

  “I’m trying to stop this,” Focil pleaded.

  “Quiet! Both of you!” Trysten held out a palm to either of the squabbling family members.

  Each paused to catch a breath. The redness lightened a bit from their cheeks, and it was plain
to see that the two were related.

  “Tannil,” Trysten said as she elevated the palm she held out to the girl’s father. “You’re not of age?”

  The redness flashed back into Tannil’s face. “I will be! This solstice. You need riders now, right?”

  Trysten glanced to Focil. “I do need riders now. And she will be of age in a few months. I will have a saddle available then. How about she trains with us now, and I won’t let her fly on patrols until she is of age?”

  Focil folded his big arms over his chest and gave his head a single shake “Unacceptable. Your own father was crippled during training.”

  Trysten sucked in a sharp breath. “That is true.”

  “If she wants to come back when she’s of age, then that’s her right,” Focil continued, “but until then, she is my daughter to protect, and I forbid her to participate in this foolishness. Being a hordesman has no future to it. No one ever got rich riding a dragon, but many a woman has made a name and a future for herself weaving cloth. I ask you,” Focil asked as he turned his attention to his daughter, “what man would have a dragon rider as a wife?”

  “I don’t care!” Tannil snapped back. “I don’t want to get married. I want to ride dragons.”

  The two went on a bit more as Trysten’s mind raced to find a way forward for them, but she kept running across the simple fact of Tannil’s age. Until the solstice, she was subject to the rules of her father. Somehow, Trysten had to find a way to get Focil to allow his daughter to participate.

  “And as for you,” Focil said as he turned his attention on Trysten, “how dare you carry on with this! It’s one thing for you to become the Dragoneer. That can’t be helped for she has chosen,” he said as he made a rough gesture at Elevera, who stared down at the lot of them with considerable irritation at the disruption.

  “But it is another thing completely to start involving the girls of the village,” he continued. “This is not their place. If the men want to ride off into battle, then that is their choice. They are suited for it. But these girls are not made for that kind of life.” He made a quick gesture of flexing his arm. The muscle bulged along his bicep before he dropped his arm to his side.